Romancing The Office
by Slittlej
Summary: Bailey and Andy are keeping their budding relationship hush-hush. How will their co-workers, one in particular, take it once it's out?


**Romancing The Office**

Bailey and Andy, arm-in-arm, gazed at the setting sun over the Ohio River. From his office, with its door locked, the sight of the firmament, late in the day, was spectacular. Funny how scarcely he used to notice these lovely everyday occurrences until he'd begun sharing them with a certain someone. The program director and on-air reporter ingénue, involved, having a thing? Right under the noses of their unsuspecting colleagues? Whoever would have thought? Well, it wasn't as though he had purposely planned it. Life and love happen, right? Unable to resist his sweetheart's neck, Andy began stroking, loving it when his doe-eyed girl cooed approval. Her wispy breaths, and gentle silken ways, filled his heart until it overflowed with love for this special woman. She was a bona fide stunner, beneath all that demure camouflage. She was poetry in jeans, a chrysalis coming into her own. And here he was, still beside himself to think that Bailey felt anything close to what he felt for her. "Whatcha thinkin'?" he pressed, close to her ear, kissing its perfect shell, always getting a kick out of asking her that. She'd give him the most patient look and purr.

Never tiring of her responses, Andy sighed in contentment. Metamorphosis often displayed itself in the most unexpected ways, in league with fascination. Whereas once he had thought of her as mousey and shy, now, she enchanted, captivated.

"Oh, nothing…" She sounded distracted, but pleasantly so, as though the world could come crashing down around their ears, and she would be the picture of serenity. He would be screaming his fair-headed head off while Bailey looked the other way, content to look on the bright side. The sun would always come out, tomorrow. The colors splayed on the sky's canvas took her breath away. The free-form tapestry made her heart beat faster. Her breath hitched; Andy had begun nibbling on her soft, tender flesh. His lips were wicked, the way they marched along in their campaign to gain more ground, inching toward her perfect nape. She smelled like flowers, fresh picked interwoven with honesty. Thrown out of her reverie with a vengeance, rambling, she tacked on, "Nothing really. "

"Oh, yeah. Like I believe that." He grinned, playfully, enjoying her perfume, which lent an aura of femininity to his office. He had come along, promising progress, non-stop forward thinking to this quaint radio station. He was proud of the differences he'd made. There were more to come. What he hadn't expected was to find love, the kind that stuck, like peanut butter did to the roof of one's mouth. Andy jostled her, his elbow finding its mark against her waist.

Bailey wasn't as positive as Andy was about their secret romance being just that, shrouded in ambiguity. This station crawled with well-meaning folks, who loved sticking their noses into other people's business.

"I think it'd be better if the door was unlocked," she mildly suggested.

"Why?" Andy asked, a bit perturbed with her suggestion and her sudden removal of her head from his right shoulder.

"To avert suspicions."

"You're imagining things," he pointed out, squeezing her arm in reassurance. Telling her she was paranoid, would really stick a fly in the ointment. "Hey, it's my door, and I'll lock it if I want to."

"Sure. It's your door, here in the Flimm, but…" As her voice trailed, she noticed Andy was giving her 'that look,' facial patronization. Presently, there was a multitude of ad hoc door owners at 617 Vine Street, in downtown Cincinnati. Andy should get in line; any ownership in these premises was provisional.

His demeanor was his way of saying she was worrying too much. No need, their situation was under tight wraps, well under control. "Would you feel better if I went and unlocked it?" he indulgently suggested, remembering the promise he'd made to himself. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. Let Bailey breathe; don't stifle her. The way he had with his ex, who had finally dumped him after having had quite enough of Mr. Andy Travis' know-it-'all-ism.'

"Why not let everyone know?" Bailey broached, thinking that now was the time. They had nothing to hide; she certainly thought so. She was proud over the way things had worked out. They'd been seeing each other going on two months. Andy was a breath of fresh air in her otherwise lackluster social life. He was easy to talk to and though he wasn't perfect, he was one of the best listeners she'd ever known. So what if everyone knew she had moved on from Johnny. She couldn't see the harm if the so-called secret was out. Was he ashamed of their budding relationship?

"Bailey, honey. I'd rather they didn't. Not just yet." Coaxing that she replant her head on his shoulder, Andy succeeded, in conjunction with shifting them closer to the door. To make her happy, he'd unlock the barrier.

"Okay," she conceded.

"You think I'm being stubborn," Andy granted, cinching her shoulders more firmly. She was so beautiful, like a delicate flower all fragile, yet resilient when her opinion differed from his. "Guess I am."

"No, no. You have your reasons, and—"

His mouth fit snugly over hers, cutting her off with a searing kiss. Bailey's giggles erupted. "BQ." His newly-minted pet name for her amplified those giggles. "I love ya, babe…" This was the reason for the locked door, to ward off any and all unwanted interruptions when he felt like showing Bailey his unbridled feelings right here, on-site. Co-workers barging in like gangbusters just wouldn't do. People were entitled to keeping some things all to themselves, weren't they? And what if this thing they had going on fell through? Together, they'd be saved the embarrassment of having to face nosey workmates, who might be all too quick to judge.

Playfully, her tongue collided with his; he had the knack of unleashing the woman in her. Breathily, Bailey managed to sass him. "I love you too, AT."

A split second after having heard these mystifying pronouncements of syrupy affection, Fever belayed knocking on Travis' door. He stared, standing stock still, strafing the with bugged-out eyes. His eyebrows knitted. His ex-on-again, off-again tootsie was wooing the program director. By the sound of things, he was doing the same with her. This was rich, man. Out with the old, meaning him, and on with the new, younger guy, the handsome huckster. Everybody's friend, always making with the glad hand, who drawled non-stop, in faded jeans. Andy pranced around as if he were above any and all office fraternization. Oh really? The wholesome-looking pretty boy was 'on the make,' right along with Herb, Venus and himself. And speaking of Mr. Gordon Sims, alias Venus Flytrap, having a few words with Travis could wait. It appeared as though the succulent, wide-eyed Bailey had stumbled into the slick operator's lair and the wolf in casual clothing had pounced. His hopeful friend, riding for a fall, needed to know about this latest, unforeseen development asap. Besides, the album currently playing was about to end. Earlier in the day, Johnny had heard Venus say he'd needed to run to the bank. "Pick up a few twenties that won't be missed for me, man," Fever had jibed before Flytrap had headed on his way. "Alimony bites!"

It was going on six, and Fly trap was just getting back. The man really knew how to stretch a break. Just keeping it real and funky, as Venus liked to say. Johnny was at the helm, once again, reigning supreme in the booth, cueing the next tune. A particular favorite…_The Long Run_, an Eagles standard, and a hit with Mr. Carlson to boot. Clearing his throat, Fever prefaced, "All right, babies. At the risk of sounding trite, which I _never_ am…" He re-launched a now historic invitation, winking at Venus:

_"All right, Cincinnati, it's time for this town to get down! You've got Johnny... Doctor Johnny Fever, and I am burnin' up in here! Whoa! Whoo! We all in critical condition, babies, but you can tell me where it hurts, because I got the healing prescription here from the big 'KRP musical medicine cabinet. Now I am talking about your 50,000 watt intensive care unit, babies! So just sit right down, relax, open your ears real wide and say, "Give it to me straight, Doctor. I can take it!_

"Next up, babies—B.B. King!"

Laughing, John donned his sunglasses and invited Venus to, "Sit down, man."

"I'm about to," Venus bantered, waiting for Fever to relieve him of the cup of freshly-brewed coffee he'd bought for the seasoned DJ . He'd tucked in a crème-fraiche jelly roll too, for the heck of it. Johnny had been a bit grumpy all day. "Bank was empty when I got there five whole minutes before three." Venus made himself comfortable on a stool, watching Johnny sip his coffee. Fever sniffed at the roll, like the pastry was something unknown, then tore off a piece, popping it squarely into his watering mouth. His eyes rolled back; the taste treat was ambrosia. "Better than osculation in the dark." _With scintillating Jennifer_, he thought, _that beauty is the definition of bombshell_. "Man, I owe you a solid. Thanks for this." He hoisted up the roll before devouring it, stuffing the entire goody in his mouth with gusto. "Did you happen to notice any cute tellers?" Fever solicited.

"Nope. They were all out. One smiley middle-aged lady winked at me though. I told her I have a friend, that's _you_, who might be interested." Venus winked slyly at his smirking friend. "I thought Bailey might like this.

"Like what? What, pray tell, does Bailey like?" Johnny snidely inquired, thinking…_aside from Mister Travis. Which I can't see what she'd see in him. Not counting rugged good looks and slim thighs. He's just eye-candy. Maybe she's liking eye-candy more these days_. That thought about Andy's thighs caught him completely by surprise.

"She loves these things." He hefted the paper bag like a trophy. "Cinnamon gumdrops." Proud, Venus looked as though he'd made them for her himself, holding up the distinctive paper bag. He wished he had, to add that special personal touch. Maybe this coming Saturday, he'd ask her out, he thought, figuring he'd pussyfooted long enough. His feeling for Bailey were real and it was high time he acted on them.

Staring at his fellow DJ, Fever made a sick face. "Sounds vile, man. Want my advice?" Fever cocked his head, looking consummately cocky. "Buy her diamonds…always a girl's best friend." He swigged more coffee, glad that his hangover from last night was subsiding, finallly. "You're a little sweet on our homegrown, resident activist, aren't ya?" Johnny folded his arms, taking in Venus' confirmatory facial expression and for some arcane reason began humming Pattiy Smyth's war cry, _Goodbye To You_. Something inside Caravella hinted that he should keep quiet about this Quarters-Travis budding romance. But Venus, his brother from another mother, deserved to know the score. Set him straight that the chick wasn't into him like that; Andy was squeezing her.

"What's with you, man. You're actin' all weird and stuff. And it's weirding me out. When you gonna learn, man? You can't drink and jive. At least not during weekly air time, and then expect to do your job without streaking to the john to puke. And feel like trash warmed over the rest of the day." Venus popped a gumdrop into his mouth, savoring its unique flavor.

"Yeah, Yeah." Fever rattled his hands at Venus. "Yes, Mother…" He had already decided on cutting back on alcoholic consumption on a nightly basis anyway. His liver would thank him.

"You're welcome." Flytrap popped another gumdrop into his mouth. These things were surprisingly outta-sight, easily addictive. Now he understood why Bailey scarfed them. The guy in the sweets shop, Ziggy Borgeest, was on the money. One acquired a taste for cinnamon gumdrops over time. But, when one did, craving them hit hard.

"You finished sermonizing?"

"For now," Venus scoffed and stopped helping himself to the object of his growing affection's treats. Rising from the stool, having decided Bailey needed her gumdrops right now, before temptation overtook him again, he made a start to leave the control booth. "Sure you won't try one?"

"Positive." He watched Venus heading off, with a song in his heart, Johnny figured. "Hey, wait, man." Fever cocked a foxy look at Flytrap. "There's something you should know…"

"Such as?" Venus arched, halting in mid-step.

"Bailey and Andy, man…" Rolling his shifty eyes, which flashed engagingly, Fever rifted, "Sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love. Then comes marriage, swiftly followed by alimony. And somewhere in-between, provided they can, offspring in a baby carriage." Fever huffed a sigh. "I know your 'like…'" He used air quotes. "Of her is blossoming into something more. I just thought it's only fair to warn you. Slow your roll. Andy's got her locked down."

"Oh. And you know this for sure."

Nodding, Fever replied, "Uh huh. Heard them behind his locked door, making out."

"How _I Spy_ of you." Venus took a deep breath to steady his voice. This was one of those few times he wasn't going to be completely on the level. "Whatever gave you the impression I have a thing for Bailey?"

"Oh maybe the way you—"

"Just because I think she's one of the finest women I've ever had the pleasure of knowing—"

"Sounds like being smitten to me." Johnny harped, "You've got that love Jones bad for her, my man."

"Get serious," Venus retorted, off the cuff. Righteously, he poured his heart into every word. "She's a standout lady, and any feelings I have for her are purely platonic."

"Don't fake me out, man. You know you're jivin'." His friend in denial wound Johnny up. It was time to change the album, though, and the Doctor wasted no time taking care of business.

While Fever feverishly went through the process of choosing what to spin, Venus drifted away to the strains of Dobie Gray's biggest hit. Standing in the hallway, contemplating his next move, Gazing upon the bag of cinnamon gumdrops, Gordon, hung his head down and sighed. "You don't treat her right, Andy, my man. I'm on your case like white on rice." He headed down the hall, bound for Bailey's office. These sweets were for the sweet regardless of whom she 'dug.'


End file.
